


Do You Ever Wonder?

by MistressRen (Jokers_Sanity)



Series: Chronicles in Fatherhood [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Daddy Ian, Daddy Mickey, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hurt Mickey Milkovich, Hurt/Comfort, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, Insecure Mickey Milkovich, Insecurity, Jealous Mickey Milkovich, Jealousy, M/M, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, Protective Ian Gallagher, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 23:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13581153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jokers_Sanity/pseuds/MistressRen
Summary: Thirty-year-old Ian Milkovich is on the hunt for diapers when he runs into a blast from the past, which sets his relationship with Mickey on the rocks.





	Do You Ever Wonder?

If someone had asked fifteen-year-old Ian Gallagher where he thought he’d be at thirty, never in his wildest dreams would he have said in the Kash and Grab on an increasingly urgent mission for diapers…

If looks could kill, Ian would be dead and cremated, his ashes smoldering six-feet underground. Granted, this really _was_ his fault. Mickey had texted him earlier that week asking him to pick up diapers on his way home from work and well… Needless to say, the last diaper in the fucking Southside was currently on their very sick toddler, who didn’t seem to be able to put _anything_ in her mouth without it coming out the other end almost immediately, and explosively. How was it even possible for every store to be out of her size?

Ian let out a grunt of frustration when his search, once again, came up empty. The shelf where the generic brand diapers should have been was vacant, a layer of dust forming on the metal as if to mock him. His phone began to vibrate in his back pocket. There was no need to check the Caller ID – he knew it would be Mickey, wanting to know what in the fuck was taking him so long. There was no point in answering. He already felt like shit, and his husband verbally tearing him a new one wouldn’t make it any better.

He ended up buying a pack of cloth diapers, knowing that returning home empty-handed simply wasn’t an option – not that he had any idea how to actually _use_ a cloth diaper, but… He went rushing out of the store so fast that he almost whacked the unsuspecting man on the other side of the door. Ordinarily, Ian would’ve just muttered a quick apology and continued on his way, but then he caught a glimpse of mocha skin and chocolate brown curls out of the corner of his eye. He stopped short, feeling his breath catch in his throat.

Trevor.

The brunette offered him a lazy half-smile, before saying, “Gee, and here I thought angels fell from Heaven, not barrel through the pearly gates.” He gave the ginger an appreciative once-over, “Long time no see, Ian.”

“Trevor,” why was his throat suddenly so dry? It felt like he was trying to swallow chalk. “You look… good.”

“Same, but I’m sure you already knew that.” He cocked his head toward the bag, “You look like you’re in kind of a rush, so I don’t want to hold you. But we should get together sometime. Catch up.”

“Rush? Oh. _Oh._ ” A pang of guilt surfaced when he realized that he’d forgotten all about his sick little girl. As if to reinforce his ineptitude, his phone began vibrating again. “Yeah, I really have to get going. Mick will –,”

Trevor’s smile was a little bit sad this time as he said, “So you ended up with Milkovich after all.”

And Ian immediately felt the need to justify himself, “He’s so much more than just a Milkovich.”

“When you love someone, you tend to want to see the best in them… even if there’s nothing actually there.” Trevor said lightly, “You can’t fault me for wishing things had gone differently.”

And Ian answered truthfully, “I can’t imagine my life without him in it. I don’t want to.”

Trevor, wisely, decided to drop the subject, “Like I said man, we should get together sometime. Talk.”

“Yeah. Sometime soon.” Ian said, watching as Trevor turned and entered the store.

He stood there for several minutes, trying to comprehend what the hell had just happened. Trevor hadn’t been a part of his life for damn near ten years, he didn’t just get to waltz right back in and steal Ian’s breath away like nothing had happened. Like Ian hadn’t fucking left him for Mickey and started a life with him. Like he didn’t have a beautiful little girl at home who needed him. Like he hadn’t sworn to be a one-thousand and ten percent better father than Frank… and look what he was doing. Damn it, he needed to get Mick the diapers!

The fifteen minute walk home felt like it took a small eternity, and when he opened the door to their small house it was to his daughter screaming her head off and Mickey cussing about vomit all over his last clean shirt. The raven didn’t even acknowledge his husband as he came barreling down the hall, snatching the bag from Ian’s hand and tearing the plastic wrap open to retrieve a clean diaper. It was only when he was halfway up the stairs that he realized what it was he was holding in his hands –

“Gallagher! What the actual fuck is this?” Ian pinched the bridge of his nose and pulled out his phone, pulling up a YouTube tutorial on how to use cloth diapers.

\--

“Hey Mick…” The battle of the diaper had led Mickey to take a half-hour long shower, and he was now parading around their kitchen in only a pair of black boxers. “Do you ever wonder…”

Not even looking up from the skillet, Mickey shot back, “What’re you yapping about, Gallagher?”

Okay, he knew that Mickey was still pissed about the diaper thing – which he had every right to be. But the ‘Gallagher’ bit was kinda starting to hurt. He hadn’t been a ‘Gallagher’ since he and Mickey had officially tied the knot four years earlier. He would’ve said as much, had he not also been one-hundred percent positive that Mickey would tell him to stop being such a fucking pansy and completely brush him off. Mickey got moody whenever their little one got sick, and tended to channel shades of his pre-out of the closet self.

“Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t come back to you?”

Immediately, he can feel the energy shift in the room. Nothing obvious has changed about Mickey, but Ian can see that his words have gotten a rise out of the smaller man. His back is straighter, his knuckles white around the wooden spoon in his hand… Ian wanted to take the words back, if only to stop the way that Mickey is biting at his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and breathing like he’s on the verge of a panic attack. He’s known Mickey long enough to know that that was the _wrong_ question to ask.

“Why?” Mickey asked suddenly, “You thinkin’ all of a sudden about how much better of you’d be without me?” He was trying for sarcasm, but it didn’t work. Instead, he just sounded pained.

Ian decided that the best course of action would be to tell the truth, “I ran into Trevor at the Kash and Grab and it just had me thinking, alright? Not that my life would be necessarily better, but… shit, I don’t know, Mick -,”

The spoon fell out of his hand, hitting the counter with a sharp _clack_. “You want to know what my life would be like, Ian? Either I’d be dead in the bottom of a ditch somewhere -,”

Ian frowned, “You’re too stubborn to die.”

“Or I’d be in jail for the rest of my fucking life.” He continued darkly. “I have no life without you, Ian. Without you, I’m just a worthless thug who gets a cheap thrill out of beating the ever-loving shit outta people.”

The red-head shook his head, “You’re so much more than that, babe.”

Mickey cringed at the nickname, but largely ignored it. “ _You_ make me more than that.”

And suddenly, Ian felt like the world’s biggest ass for bringing it up… for making Mickey think that he _ever_ thought that a life without him would be even worth considering. Rising up off of the barstool, he quickly made his way over to the smaller man and bundled him up in his arms, hugging him as tightly as he could. Mickey struggled momentarily, before relaxing into his hold. He could feel each hiccup of breath as he assumed Mickey was holding back sobs, and Ian felt his heart break for his husband.

Mickey continued, “I wake up every morning and wonder what in the hell I did to deserve you and Aggie. I’ve had so many nightmares where _he_ comes back and takes you away, or _he_ hurts one of you… I couldn’t take it.”

“Shh,” Ian rubbed his stomach soothingly, “The bastard is dead and buried. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“And now you want to leave me again.” Mickey whispered brokenly. A single tear trekked down his cheek.

“No. No, baby, no. Nothing and nobody could make me leave you or our pretty baby, alright? You’re all that I ever wanted and I’m sorry if I made you doubt that, okay? I should’ve never asked.”

And then Mickey asked, “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if you’d ditched me?”

“You mean if you rightly decided that you could do so much better than my sorry ass?” Mickey opened his mouth to protest, but Ian shook his head. “I wouldn’t have made it to twenty-five, let alone thirty.”

Mickey frowned, “I don’t think -,”

“You were the only thing standing between me and complete self-destruction, and I didn’t appreciate it then… but I do now. Everyday you’re in my life, you make it worth living, Mick. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

“That has to be the gayest shit that you’ve ever said.” Mickey concluded blandly.

Ian just rolled with it, shrugging and offering a curt, “So to answer your question: no, I don’t.”

Mickey wiggled in his arms until he was able to resume making dinner. Once it was finished, the two ate in silence before heading upstairs to check on their daughter. Ian thanked whatever deity cared to listen that she was still sleeping peacefully, and the cloth contraption around her waist was mercifully still clean. Mickey kissed her softly on the forehead and Ian couldn’t help but smile as she reached for him in her sleep. Mickey hummed softly beneath his breath, holding her tiny hand in his.

Yes, he’d married Mickey fucking Milkovich, a no-good Southside rat with a rap sheet a mile long. Yes, he trusted the same hands that had bashed Mr. Patel’s face in to cradle their daughter, the same arms that could choke the life out of a full grown man to hold him while he slept. Because Mickey fucking laid beside him in bed when he hadn’t moved for days and reeked of his own piss, because Mickey _sobbed_ when he held their newborn baby for the first time…

Because Mickey was everything he ever fucking wanted, and if he had to, he intended to spend the rest of his life proving that to him.

It would seem as if he wouldn’t need to catch-up with Trevor after all.

 


End file.
